


Inevitable

by kim47



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-27
Updated: 2012-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-04 10:04:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kim47/pseuds/kim47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know, this would never have happened if you just kept your damn shirt on."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inevitable

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 05/03/2011.

Merlin should have known it would only be a matter of time.

Arthur had what Merlin considered to be a frankly unhealthy predilection for sleeping without a shirt on. Every night, Merlin would help him undress, and put him in his sleeping shift. Every morning, without exception, Arthur would be shirtless. Usually sprawled out, golden hair falling artfully across his forehead, limbs bathed in warm, pale sunlight. Sometimes he suspected Arthur was doing it on purpose.

It made him sick.

This morning was no different.

"Late again," Arthur drawled, sitting on the edge of his bed, running calloused hands through his sleep ruffled hair.

"Yes, sire," Merlin replied through clenched teeth, setting Arthur's breakfast on the table and turning to face the prince. Arthur smirked at him.

"Well don't just stand there like an idiot, get my clothes," he ordered, standing up and stretching.

Merlin's retort was on his lips immediately, until his brain was rather involuntarily hijacked for the much more pleasant task of simply staring at Arthur.

It started with Arthur forcing his shoulders down, tilting his head to one side, and straining his neck, apparently trying to work out a kink it had developed in the night. He rolled his head around, grimacing slightly, hand coming up to ease the tense muscles of his neck.

Merlin was perfectly aware that he was staring, and was rather disturbed to find himself without the power to stop.

Arthur's powerful arms stretched out behind him as he linked his hands together and forced his chest out. His rather broad, strong chest, with just a smattering of light golden curls across it, Merlin noted a little wildly. Arthur continued to stretch, his head dropping down again, straining his neck again, and he hummed slightly, clearly finding the experience pleasurable.

He's not the only one, part of Merlin's brain supplied. He tried to frown at it, but it ignored him in favour of voicing its appreciation of Arthur's sculpted stomach.

Arthur looked up suddenly, his unfairly blue eyes fixed on Merlin's. They narrowed slightly, before brightening, and a small smile tugged at Arthur's lips. He brought his right hand up to his left shoulder and massaged the muscle.

"Merlin," he began, his face taking on the mischievous look which never boded well for Merlin. "Merlin, I seem to have pulled a muscle in training yesterday."

"Hmmm?" was the best Merlin could offer.

Arthur grinned at him, a knowing, almost smug smile that Merlin had the strongest urge to kiss off his face.

No, he told himself firmly. That's not helping.

"Rub that ointment Gaius sent up on it," he demanded, no hint of a request in his voice.

"Would it really kill you to simply ask nicely for once?" Merlin sniped back, feeling a little more at ease now that they were bickering. Nervertheless, he fetched the ointment from Arthur's dresser.

"You're my servant, Merlin. I don't have to ask you to do anything."

Arthur sat back down on the bed, his back to Merlin. Merlin now had a first class view of Arthur's back, the lines of his shoulder blades down to his waist, the bumps of his spine surprisingly visible, just begging Merlin to place kisses between each one, dropping down to -

"Merlin!"

He jumped guiltily, and moved forward to sit behind Arthur. He carefully unscrewed the pot, trying not to look at Arthur, and rubbed the ointment over his hands, warming it.

"I'm not a girl, Merlin," Arthur whined, "Just get on with it."

Merlin was more than happy to oblige.

He started slowly, just ghosting his hands over Arthur, spreading the ointment lightly. He brushed along the width of his shoulders, before dropping his hands a little lower and pressing his thumbs just below Arthur's shoulder blades. Arthur, unconsciously, Merlin suspected, leaned back into the touch, pushing insistently against Merlin's hands. He brought them back up to Arthur's shoulders, and began to massage in earnest. His fingers danced over Arthur's shoulders, occasionally grazing along his collar bones, before darting back up to caress the tendons of his neck. He moved his hands in broad sweeping circles across Arthur's back, enjoying the feel of Arthur's warm, pliant skin under him.

Merlin could feel the tension in Arthur's shoulders easing under his hands, and he couldn't help the little spark of pride at that. It was replaced by a spark of something entirely different when Arthur's head dropped down and a moan escaped his lips. Merlin drew back immediately, as if Arthur's skin was on fire. He immediately felt room fill with foot-shuffling, fingernail-examining awkwardness, and was ready to stand up and flee when - 

"Keep going."

Arthur's voice was slightly hoarse, but distinct, so Merlin cautiously reached for him again. Tentatively, he resumed the massage. Arthur resumed the moaning.

It was all rather unfair, Merlin thought. On the one hand, touching Arthur like this was incredibly enjoyable. On the other, touching Arthur like this was turning him on to an unfortunate degree. Merlin had no idea how he was going to get out of this situation with his dignity intact. 

He was still musing on this conundrum when Arthur turned abruptly and seized his wrists.

"Arthur?" He looked up to see Arthur surprisingly close, staring at him with darkened eyes, lips slightly parted. Merlin licked his own, mostly out of nervousness, and was completely powerless to stop his gaze travelling down. Oh. Oh. It appeared that Merlin wasn't the only one who had to worry about his dignity. He looked back up to meet Arthur's eyes, which were now unabashedly staring at Merlin's lips. When they curled into a smile, Arthur's eyes returned to his. 

They continued to look at each other, neither moving, Arthur still gripping his wrists, tightly almost to the point of pain. Merlin wanted, more than anything, to lean forward and close the distance, but he couldn't, he was frozen, fixed, entirely at Arthur's mercy. Slowly, Arthur eased his hold on Merlin's wrists, bringing them forward. Merlin stretched out his fingers, instinctively, and they made contact with Arthur's chest. He drew his breath in sharply, eyes fixed on his own hands splayed almost possessively over Arthur.

Then, with a slight, impatient noise, hands still clasping Merlin's wrists, Arthur leaned forward and pressed his lips against Merlin's. 

His lips were warm and solid and annoyingly perfect, much like Arthur himself, Merlin reflected, before kissing back enthusiastically, sliding his hands, still slick with ointment, up and around Arthur's neck. He felt rather than heard Arthur growl his approval at this, and responded with a light swipe of his tongue against Arthur's lips. Arthur's mouth opened immediately, coaxing Merlin's own open, and slipping his tongue in. Merlin moaned at the feel of it, and drew Arthur even closer to him, clinging with an almost embarrassing desperation. He leaned back, lying down on the bed, pulling Arthur to lie on top of him. The kisses grew faster and dirtier and messier, and Merlin almost thought he could come just from this, Arthur's weight on top of him, his tongue, lips and teeth all assaulting Merlin's mouth, the heat and slickness and -

Arthur broke away suddenly and Merlin opened his eyes in protest. Arthur was resting on his forearms above Merlin, frowning at him.

"Why are you still wearing clothes?" he asked, sounding genuinely offended by them. Merlin would have laughed, but taking off his clothes was clearly his best option here. He quickly pulled off his shirt and would have proceeded to his breeches if Arthur hadn't resumed biting at his lower lip, a hint of teeth, before soothing it with his tongue. The feeling of Arthur's chest pressed against his own was wonderful, and he pressed his palms against Arthur's back, trying to extended the contact. It took a few minutes before they remembered what they had been doing.

"These. Off. Now," was all Arthur said, plucking uselessly at Merlin's breeches. Merlin shucked them rapidly, demanding,

"And yours."

Merlin dragged Arthur back on top of him, his hands everywhere, trying to touch every inch of him at once. Arthur was mouthing at his neck, moaning softly as he rocked his hips into Merlin's. Merlin knew he wasn't going to last long, not when it felt like he was drowning in the sensation of having Arthur pressed up against him, his glorious, golden skin there for Merlin to touch. He pressed a kiss to Arthur's shoulder before working his hand between them, finally gripping Arthur's cock and stroking lightly. Arthur's hips jerked as he pushed into the touch, and Merlin stroked harder, amazed at the sensation of Arthur coming apart under his hands. 

"Merlin, Merlin, yes, please, more, more," Arthur was gasping, becoming less coherent with each passing moment. Overcome with a sudden notion, Merlin released him, rolling them so he was on top of Arthur, straddling his thighs. 

"Merlin, what - " was as far as Arthur got before Merlin slid down his body and, after pressing a light kiss to Arthur's hipbone, took him into his mouth. Arthur gasped, and his hands scrabbled across the bedsheets, searching for something to cling on to. Merlin reached up and caught his hand, bringing it to rest on top of Merlin's head. He pressed his other hand into Arthur's hip, attempting to still his jerking hips. Arthur seemed to approve of this plan, twisting his fingers in Merlin's hair, stroking almost tenderly.

Merlin hummed in contentment, sending Arthur crashing over the edge with a shout that sounded suspiciously like Merlin's name. Merlin held him through it, swallowing it all, relishing the taste of Arthur in his mouth. He had barely had time to pull off and lick at his lips before Arthur was there, thrusting his tongue in his mouth, tasting himself, his sword hand hot and rough on Merlin's cock. Merlin almost yelped at suddenness of it, and it was only a few seconds before he was coming too, all over Arthur's hand and stomach. 

Merlin flopped back against the bed, attempting to get his breath back. Arthur was still slumped half-over him, warm, heavy and boneless, and Merlin felt, for the first time in a long time, utterly content with the world. 

"Do you feel more relaxed now, sire?" he teased. A muffled grunt came from Arthur, followed by a chuckle.

"Oh, much. I think you'll have to do this every time I have a cramp."

After a few moments, Arthur got up and lurched away from the bed. Merlin started to protest, until he saw that Arthur was simply cleaning himself up. He watched with his mouth slightly open as Arthur ran a damp cloth over his chest and stomach. His cock twitched slightly at the sight. 

Arthur made his way back onto the bed and lay down, practically pulling Merlin into his lap. He shoved his face into Merlin's neck, and breathed into it, his breath tickling at Merlin's throat. Long, lazy moments passed, as they both grew drowsier and drowsier. Merlin waited until he was sure Arthur was asleep to whisper,

"You know, this would never have happened if you just kept your damn shirt on."

He felt Arthur snort into his shoulder. Oh. Not so asleep, then.

"In that case," Arthur mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, "remind me never to put on a shirt again."


End file.
